


Swimmingly

by satb31



Series: Amis et amants [4]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Honeymoon, M/M, Pool Sex, Porn with Feelings, Romance, Swimming Pools
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-14
Updated: 2014-10-14
Packaged: 2018-02-21 03:15:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2452715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/satb31/pseuds/satb31
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Courfeyrac gives Joly and Prouvaire a wedding gift: a honeymoon at one of his family's summer homes that has a very tempting swimming pool.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Swimmingly

The honeymoon was a gift.

When Joly and Prouvaire were planning their wedding -- a fairly simple affair, with a short ceremony in the Public Garden, followed by dinner at a favorite restaurant over in Cambridge -- it came out that they had not scheduled any sort of a honeymoon.

“But the honeymoon’s the best part, am I right?” Courfeyrac said to them with a showy leer, which earned him a smack from Combeferre.

“We don’t exactly have a ton of cash right now,” Joly explained. “I’ve got to start paying back my med school loans, and creative writing instructors don’t earn very much, and we want to buy a house someday soon--” His voice trailed off as he looked over at Prouvaire, who was staring at his glass mournfully. Joly reached over and touched his hand, wishing he could give Prouvaire the vacation of his dreams -- a week in Paris or Prague or somewhere equally romantic -- but knowing that finances made it almost impossible.

Courfeyrac leaned in closer. “The least I can do is to give you some time away. Let me check with my parents and see if any of their houses are empty the first week of August, and I’ll pay your fare myself.”

“That’s far too generous, Courfeyrac,” Prouvaire said with a shake of his head. “We couldn’t possibly--”

“I insist,” Courfeyrac interrupted. “There’s no way you two are spending your wedding night in Joly’s shithole of an apartment. And besides, I’m thrilled that you guys found each other, and that you’re committing to spending your lives together. That’s pretty amazing,” he said in a rare burst of sentimentality.

Combeferre patted him on the shoulder approvingly. “I knew I’d chosen well when I decided to start dating you,” he said, half-jokingly.

“Well, once I gave up on him, he had to find someone to put up with his bullshit,” Prouvaire teased, laughing when Courfeyrac flipped him the finger. “But thanks, Courfeyrac," he said, grasping Joly's hand under the table. "We appreciate it.”

Joly nodded in solidarity, grateful to his fiance’s ex-lover for his generosity.

**  
The house that was free turned out to be the cottage on Sea Island, just off the coast of Georgia. As Courfeyrac explained it, the Nantucket house was being used by his sister, the ski lodge in Aspen was having a new roof put on, and his parents were in residence at the pied a terre in Paris, so their destination was to Southern climes. “It will be hotter than hell,” Courfeyrac warned as he handed over the keys. “So don’t bother bringing very much clothing. Not that you’ll need much anyway,” he said with a wink.

They departed right after the wedding, which featured a ceremony marked by a brief scare when Bossuet, who was Joly’s best man, thought he’d forgotten the rings -- only to discover he had actually entrusted them to Grantaire, who was Prouvaire’s best man, over drinks the previous night. The reception included a surprisingly emotional speech from Enjolras, who wasn’t even in the wedding but had taken the opportunity of an open forum to draw parallels between Prouvaire and Joly’s relationship and the current state of politics that left Combeferre nodding and Courfeyrac groaning. But with Bahorel serving as officiant, and Feuilly using his connections in the restaurant business to get them a good deal on catering, the day was magical -- but exhausting.

On the flight down to Georgia -- not on a commercial jet, but on a private plane that Courfeyrac had chartered after assuring Enjolras multiple times that he had also purchased the appropriate carbon offsets -- they consumed a glass of champagne, then Prouvaire curled up on the seat with his head on Joly’s lap as Joly gazed out the window, stroking his new husband’s curls and thinking about at how lucky he truly was. 

When they arrived at the airport, they stepped off into the thick swampy air. They were greeted on the tarmac by a private car, complete with a driver in livery, who whisked them out of the airport and off toward the ocean. “Jesus, Courf, you really are the 1%,” Joly texted to their friend from the car.

“Yes, but I actually realize I did nothing to earn it,” Courfeyrac texted back. “Have fun. And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” The text ended with a series of winking emoticons. 

Joly laughed and tucked his phone back into his pocket, reaching over to touch Prouvaire’s leg, which he was jiggling with excitement as he looked out the window, watching the beautiful houses and the giant oak trees covered with Spanish moss pass by. “It’s so beautiful,” Prouvaire said softly.

“So are you,” Joly said, clasping his hand and kissing it as they crossed the causeway onto the island.

**  
To call the house a cottage would be a stretch -- it was probably twice as big as the house Joly had grown up in, with five huge bedrooms, all furnished in white, a substantial kitchen fit for a gourmet cook, two different living rooms, and a dining room that could easily fit 20 people. Joly moved their suitcases into the largest bedroom, then wandered outside to the pool deck, where Prouvaire was standing and gazing out over the moonlit ocean beyond.

“Courfeyrac wasn’t kidding about the heat,” Joly remarked as he came up behind Prouvaire and put his arms around his waist, nuzzling at his neck. “I don’t think I’ll need those long sleeved shirts I packed.”

Prouvaire turned around in his arms and kissed him on the lips. “I don’t think you’re going to need very many shirts at all, honestly,” he teased. “Do you want to go for a swim?”

“Sure, just let me go get my trunks--” Joly said, until Prouvaire put his fingers to his lips.

“We’re the only ones here, Jolllly,” Prouvaire pointed out. “I don’t think you’ll need them.” Before Joly could stop him, he stripped off his t-shirt, revealing his tanned chest, then kicked off his flip flops and tugged down his cargo shorts. Naked, he walked over toward the pool and plunged in without a second thought, swimming underwater for as long as he could, then emerging at the opposite end.

Joly wavered between enjoying the view, and worrying about the consequences. “Are you sure about this?” He craned his neck to look around, certain someone must be watching them. 

Prouvaire was treading water in the deep end. “Joly, this is Courfeyrac’s house, remember? I’m sure it’s seen debaucheries we’ve never even dreamed of.”

Joly had to admit that Prouvaire was probably right, although he had never been as comfortable with his body as his husband was. He slowly unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it aside, then removed his sneakers and jeans, looking around anxiously as he stood there in just a pair of white boxer shorts. “Is it warm in there?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“It will be once you’re in it.” Prouvaire said with a smirk. “Come on, Joly. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

Finally Joly slid out of his underwear, but rather than plunging in as Prouvaire had done, he sat on the side of the pool and dangled his feet in the water. “Are you happy now?” he asked.

“I’ll be happier when you get in the water,” Prouvaire said, swimming over toward him and holding out his arms. “Please?”

Joly could never resist Prouvaire for long, so he lowered himself into the water, which felt wonderfully cool and refreshing on a hot night. “Mmm, this feels good,” he said, even though it still felt a little odd to him to not be wearing a swimsuit.

“Haven’t you ever skinny-dipped before?” Prouvaire asked.

Shaking his head, Joly lowered himself into the pool until he was in up to his neck. “Bossuet and I were going to do it once at Walden Pond, but I chickened out. Which was just as well, because the cops came and we had to run off. Without Bossuet’s pants.” He shuddered at the awkwardness of the memory.

Prouvaire came over to him and leaped into his arms, wrapping his arms and legs around his husband. “I don’t think anyone will find us here,” he said, kissing him lasciviously on the lips. “If you know what I mean.” 

As Prouvaire kissed him, Joly could feel Prouvaire’s erection pressing against his belly. “What did you have in mind?” he said in a low voice. 

“Oh, lots of things,” Prouvaire said airily. “I’m sure you’ve never had sex in a pool before.”

“That doesn’t seem especially sanitary,” Joly pointed out, although a bemused smile crossed his face as he noticed the thought of it was going straight to his cock.

His arousal was not lost on Prouvaire, either. “I think we’ll live,” he said, nuzzling Joly’s neck. “Although we should probably take this to the shallow end, just to be sure.”

Joly laughed and steered Prouvaire away from the deep end of the pool, backing him up against the side of the pool. Prouvaire’s body was still wrapped around him as he locked his fingers in Joly’s damp hair and kissed him ferociously. “I want you inside me, Jolllly,” he whispered in Joly’s ear. “Right now.”

“Do you now,” Joly murmured in a husky voice, slipping his hand underwater and fumbling around to find Prouvaire’s entrance. He touched it gently, then slid a finger inside him as he had done so many times before, enjoying the familiar mewling sound Prouvaire made as he did so. Not encountering much resistance, he inserted a second finger quickly and began working his lover open, as Prouvaire’s moans grew louder.

“Oh God,” Prouvaire called out as Joly added a third finger.

“Shh,” Joly admonished him. “You’ll disturb the whole island.”

“Then my husband,” Prouvaire said, emphasizing those two words with complete and unabashed joy, “needs to fuck me right now.”

Joly chuckled and withdrew his fingers, causing Prouvaire to whimper. Already rock hard, he steadied himself and lined up at Prouvaire’s entrance, pushing inside him with a groan. He had done this so many times before, but in this gorgeous place, with only the underwater lights of the pool to guide him, it was absolute magic.

He began to move deep inside Prouvaire, who clung to Joly, scrabbling for purchase on his bare back. As they moved together, they continued to kiss and caress every inch of each other’s bodies, and Joly moved to stroke Prouvaire’s cock in time with his thrusts. They were calling each other’s names, as Joly was moaning and Prouvaire was crying out, pushing each other’s limits in all the best ways.

And then, almost simultaneously, and as if by some sort of cosmic coincidence, they both came, clutching each other in the warmth of the water -- and the warmth of each other.

Afterwards they floated together in the pool, not wanting to pull apart just yet. “I assume there must be some expensive towels around here somewhere,” Joly finally said, breaking the silence. “Or does this place come with its own towel boy?”

Prouvaire giggled. “Knowing Courfeyrac, it wouldn’t surprise me. But I think I noticed a pile of them next to the house.”

Reluctantly Joly pulled away from him and climbed out of the pool, shaking water out of his hair as he went. He fetched two towels, wrapping one of them around his waist over his fading erection. As Prouvaire got out, Joly wrapped the other towel around him, using it as an excuse to tug him closer and kiss him. “I love you,” he said, touching his forehead to his new husband’s.

“I love you too,” Prouvaire whispered.

Once they had dried off, they made their way back inside, where they finally collapsed on the huge bed and fell asleep on top of the duvet, with Joly’s body wrapped around Prouvaire’s. Both men were so exhausted they slept until the dawn, when Joly’s phone buzzed with an incoming text.

“Hope you’re enjoying your gift,” came the text from Courfeyrac. 

Joly glanced over at Prouvaire, who was still curled on his side, sound asleep. Smiling, Joly composed a return text that read, “I most certainly am.”


End file.
